


stress (relief)

by valiantfindekano



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, i should've posted this on 4/20, literally no one asked for this but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantfindekano/pseuds/valiantfindekano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urie needs to chill the fuck out. Shirazu has something for that.  ( crossposted from tumblr. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	stress (relief)

There’s something immediately suspicious about the way Shirazu comes shuffling through the common room, hands shoved in the pocket of his coat and expression wary. Urie’s tempted, as always, to just ignore him, but that posture suggests something he might be able to extract, some detail he can torment his squad leader with later on. He folds down the newspaper he’s been scanning before he asks: ‘Where are you going?’

Shirazu shrugs. ‘Just goin’ for a smoke,’ he answers, but there’s a very slight catch in his voice. ( A lie? ) ‘… Wanna come?’

That much, admittedly, Urie wasn’t expecting. Personally he thinks it’s gross; how Shirazu can handle the taste of cigarettes after the surgery is a mystery to him. It’s bad enough to smell it secondhand, the poisonous scent setting in the back of his throat, sourness sometimes sticking to their coats, but to willingly inhale it just for a little extra kick … it seems stupid.

But as far as self-destructive behaviours go, it isn’t the worst Urie could point at. He hesitates, but after a second … ‘I guess ( if you need a babysitter. )’

Shirazu gives a strange half-grin, but he’s otherwise quiet as Urie joins him to head down the stairs and out the door. Urie expects them to stop there, but Shirazu keeps walking – around the corner, towards the back of the Chateau. It’s not scenic; it’s secretive, a realization that has Urie’s brow furrowing as he watches the younger Quinx rummage in his pockets.

When he draws them out again, Urie immediately notices the smell. Not cigarettes … stronger. More sour, more sickly … oh. He freezes.

‘Don’t tell Sassan?’ Shirazu’s expression is guilty, but that doesn’t stop him from flicking open the cheap lighter in his hand.

Urie finds himself watching with a strange sense of fascination. Telling Sasaki truthfully isn’t on his mind ( for now, at least, though he’s not going to promise that this information won’t slip out at some tactical point in the future. ) ‘How did you get this?’

Shirazu doesn’t answer right away. He’s inhaled, and holds his breath for one, two, three, four more seconds before he breathes out, thick smoke curling around his mouth. ‘Bought it. Had some extra money this month…’

Urie clicks his tongue. ‘You can’t afford a habit like this.’ He means, for the most part, in terms of job performance, but he knows his teammate’s financial situation is as dire as it gets.

‘’m stressed,’ Shirazu defends himself after another drag. He says it with grinning teeth, which is never especially comforting to see. But the he holds out his hand, joint balanced between his fingers. ‘Ya should try it. It’s good for ya.’

( Yeah right. ) There’s never been any room for debate in Urie’s mind about drugs; they’re illegal for a reason, and he’s not going to waste any tears over the idiots that try and bring other countries’ problems here to make degenerates out of good people. But the damage is done: Shirazu’s given CCG salary to some disgusting dealer, and the product’s in use. If anything, it should be his duty to ensure that he doesn’t fuck himself up by having all of that to himself.

Urie bites the glove off one of his hands before plucking the joint from Shirazu’s hand – his confusion must show in his expression, though.

‘Breathe in,’ Shirazu instructs. ‘Try ‘n hold it in ya lungs.’  

Right. He can do that – except the attempt leaves Urie coughing so hard that tears spring up in his eyes, which is made a thousand times worse by the fact that Shirazu laughs. ( Bastard. ) Determined, though, he tries again; the next attempt is a little more successful.

It’s still disgusting. It smells disgusting, tastes disgusting.

There’s worse things than the almost companionable silence that’s settled between them, however, and for a few minutes they wordlessly pass the joint between them. It’s late, but the sky’s not really that dark, polluted by city lights. Admittedly, it’s relaxing just to watch the smoke drifting away from their mouths, carried away by quiet breezes, until finally there’s not enough left for them to do anything but burn their lips. Shirazu rubs out the end against the wall and lets it drop.  

‘Whatchya thinking about?’ ( Eventually there’s Shirazu’s voice, ruining it. )

Urie frowns. ‘Nothing.’

For some reason that earns a laugh in response. ‘Me too.’

… and despite himself, Urie laughs too. It’s just a slightly louder exhale, because he hasn’t honestly laughed at anything in years and years, but there’s even a smile to accompany it. ( Damn it … ) He lets his eyes close and his chin drops towards his chest. ( This was a mistake. )

‘’ey.’ Shirazu’s voice again. ‘Ya alright there?’

Urie nods, exhales again. ‘Yeah. I just …’

There’s a drawn out pause before Shirazu suddenly takes Urie by the arm, a hand against his forearm, dragging him back towards the front of the Chateau. The touch feels like it’s melting into him, which is fascinating enough that he forgets to protest. There’s a bit of fumbling with the front door, and Urie idly wonders what it would be like if they were locked out, but that’s forgotten when it finally yields.

It takes a while to make it from there back up to Shirazu’s room, but at least no one else is around to apprehend them. Shirazu just goes to flop dramatically onto his back in the middle of his bed, while Urie perches more carefully at the edge, idly tracing the curves in the palm of his own bare hand. He can’t remember where the other glove is; outside, maybe. He should go look for it.

( It’s helpful, he thinks, to focus on little details right now. If he can concentrate completely on something, he can ignore the building sense of panic that brashly agreeing to take drugs with his squad mate was a mistake, and that he’s losing control, which is something he’d really only have agreed to do if he trusted Shirazu … )

But then his thoughts are being interrupted by a crackle of static, and the start of some song that Urie’s sure he doesn’t even like. It’s coming from Shirazu’s phone, so the speakers are awful quality, but there’s something enticing about it all the same.

Shirazu sets the phone aside and taps the bed next to him. ‘You’re so tense, Uriboy,’ he accuses.

‘’m not.’ Urie still sees the offer for what it is, though, and he flops down next to him before elbowing him in the ribcage. Shirazu gives his shoulder an answering shove, but Urie just smirks.

It’s surprisingly comfortable like this, music wrapping around him, a colourful haze in front of his eyes, Shirazu’s lazy breaths next to him. The one thing that would make it better would be if he had a pencil and sketchbook, something to occupy his hands and capture the fleeting images in his mind, but he doesn’t have the inclination to go look for them.

A few songs pass like that before a sudden sense of discomfort strikes, and Urie rolls over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows so he can peer down at Shirazu. ‘—You’re stressed,’ he repeats, like picking up a dropped thread. ‘You do this because you’re … stressed.’

Shirazu just looks up at him, wide-eyed. ‘Are you … _caring?_ ’

Urie’s eyes flick to the side in annoyance. ‘If being squad leader is too much…’ he starts, but evidently that’s the wrong thing to say.

‘Shut up.’ But Shirazu leans up, tosses an arm up and around Urie’s shoulders to settle at the back of his neck.

The kiss that follows doesn’t land at Urie’s lips, as he’d anticipated. Instead Urie gasps as lips and a very slight graze of sharp teeth land just below his jawline and trail along to his neck. Working with his hesitation, Shirazu’s quick to reverse their positions, pushing Urie onto his back and pinning him beneath his hands.

‘Squad leader…’ Urie has never once said those words to Shirazu without a trace of mockery in his voice, and it’s still there beneath the hitch in his breath. The title earns him the desired effect – Shirazu’s hands move to lock around Urie’s wrists, and his teeth bare.

There’s some song playing with a slow beat, Shirazu’s hands melt into Urie’s skin, and the place where his mouth had touched feels electric. He shifts his hips, shivers at the answering press of Shirazu’s body.

‘Thought ya didn’t like to be touched.’

That’s … _observant_ of Shirazu, though it begs the question why he’d think a kiss was a good choice. ‘You started it,’ Urie points out, eyes focusing on Shirazu’s lips. ( It’s true. Touch usually makes his skin crawl. Is it _just_ the drug that’s made it feel nice now, he wonders? ) Shirazu hesitates then, and now it’s Urie’s turn to take advantage. He wrenches one hand free, enough so that he can push himself up, lips poised just above Shirazu’s. ‘… so are you going to finish it too?’

‘Ya want me to?’ A curl of his lips reveals pointed teeth. Urie’s not proud of the way that excites him, but it isn’t a problem he wants to dissect right now.

‘… yeah.’

( _I won’t tell Sassan,_ is Urie’s last coherent thought, _if you don’t._ )


End file.
